Can't wait to make my trip out of town, son
But we gon' do it, son
All them bitches tryna get this paper
Yo, it all began like, bust it
My nigga said he 'bout to bounce on a trip
He met some niggas with a lot of things they want him to flip
I told my nigga, "Get the dough and keep the blaow on your hip"
Travel safe, you know that I'ma hold it down on the strip
Good lookin', word to mother, son, I give you my word
But when I get back, I'ma bounce straight to your crib
On the strength, son slid and took it to the Greyhound
With a burner in the knapsack, headed straight out of town
Now, three days passed, I'm still on the strip
Doin' hand-to-hand with twelve capsules, stashable clips
With little magnets on the side of the clips
We plan it like a project, when police come
We stick the clips to any metal object
Throwin' your nigga on the walls and try to search me down
I laugh, knowin' that my stash'll never be found
But anyway, on the third day, son came straight to the strip
With a new floss and shiny shoes on the whip
My nigga hit me with the latest greatest
He told me, "Get inside the whip so I
Can know just what the up-to-date is"
He said he fuckin' with some Guyanese niggas, how ill them niggas is
What kind of dough they get, and how they handle they biz
How they connect with Jamaican niggas who speak American
And how they change from medallions to iced-out pelicans
And how they stay with four-pounders
And speak American to try to blend in
Like they ain't obvious out-of-towners
Okay, I never heard of workers gettin' five G's pay
For trips that last for only two to three day
How us Guyanese niggas be eatin' pasta but they love zucchini
Rockin' velour tennis suits by Sergio Tacchini
Them type of cats that call you because you can't call 'em
Rockin' baseball fitteds with wild animal skins on 'em
How they rock silks and tailor-made pants
And get a matchin' Bally shoe for the silk to step in the dance
Washed rags hangin' from every one of our back pockets
From every fine wine to champagne, them niggas'll straight cop it
And set up shops in them neighborhoods that was residential
Rock laced whips while the workers'll floss the latest rentals
How they fuck with arrogant bitches who act pushy
And love to hustle with niggas and stash coke up in they pussy
After all of that, I wanted ones
The way my nigga was talkin', so next trip, I went to bounce with son
So now we out of town with Guyanese cats
Up in the gates, bubblin' packages and layin' with gats
Shit was slow until the main fiend
Was off just like a thief in the night
And spread the word that we was back with the white
Ayo, why don't you tell that crackhead to
Close the fuckin' door and shut the fuck up
Yeah, man, and clean the motherfuckin' spot up, it smell like shit
Break this fuckin' brick down into workin' fifties
Yo, go get the plates and the GemStar
Shit, light that up, let me get a hit of that
Fuck this shit
Yeah, see how we blowin', pa
The look-out niggas holdin' fort like they was watchtowers
Buggin' on how we went through a half a brick every couple of hours
So on and so on, shit is good and we eatin'
First nigga to short a package'll catch the most brutal beatin'
The whole town, see, we now own it
Carryin' on and blemishin' all in the hearts of the best moments
We stackin' cheddar now and shit is all clear
That we was growin' as workin' niggas with aspirin ideas
We love to floss and the feelin' of pushin' chrome shit
But in the grand scheme, these niggas'd love to have they own shit
Now these niggas was really ready to swell up
We decided to separate from them niggas and make our shit develop
Off into the wilderness of the wicked who sin
We set up shops and watched the games begin
So now we ballin' like a motherfucker, money was sick
Gas on the cheddar and these bitches ridin' the dick
Fuckin' everything from the local
McDonald bitches with the biggest ass
To attorney bitches that'll beat a charge fast
We used to take a nigga's custies and leave they set up on tilt
And watch 'em angrily scheme on the shit that we built
Ain't it funny how shit transpire? In fact
Not too long after a ride, we took the where the stash house was at
Some niggas tried to run a jux with things in they palm
Not a problem, so we immediately reach for the johns
Right away, the gun bust, straight lifted a nigga
How we moved his organs, the kickback shifted a nigga
Wild shots fire, everybody scatter like rats
Leavin' nothin' but gunpowder and a trail of smoke from these gats
Now we got this faggot nigga blood on our hands
But fuck it, determined to fulfill the best of these plans
Shit was hot, but we was nowhere near ready to fall
My son said he shot, but he wasn't bleedin' at all
Word, I started buggin' when my nigga said he feel cold
Then I looked up on the right side
Of his shirt and found a little hole
So as we continued to radically blaze the fifth
Flame the iron, not givin' a fuck, y'all niggas wanna riff?
Look, we deaded three out of them four niggas who tried to jux
One nigga slid and think he got off the hook
Now let me find out one out of them three niggas we bodied
Was one of them Guyanese niggas who buy drinks up for the party
He was the nigga that flood the table with champagnes
Stupid motherfucker tried to front, we had to leak his brain
Suddenly, my nigga fell to the floor
And said his legs feel like them shits ain't got no feelings no more
Oats are actin' up from all the shit I felt in my guts
The shit was all over as soon as the director said cut
That's a wrap
Good actin', motherfuckers, good actin'
That's the shit I'm talkin' about
Y'all ready to watch the playback?
